


The Devil's Trill

by Anubis_2701



Series: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021 [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Classical Music, Cute Kids, Double Bassist Miya Atsumu, Enemies to Lovers, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship, Rivalry, Violinist Sakusa Kiyoomi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anubis_2701/pseuds/Anubis_2701
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi is the Japanese Philharmonic Orchestra's first-string violinist, a prodigy and genius according to many. Miya Atsumu is its most talented double bass player. They absolutely despise each other.At least, they thought they did.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115333
Comments: 6
Kudos: 107





	The Devil's Trill

**Author's Note:**

> SakuAtsu Fluff Week Day 9, Tier 2 - Alternate Careers
> 
> And this fic brings to a close my string of fluff week submissions! I hope you guys enjoyed them all, and I promise to be back with more sakuatsu in the future! :D
> 
> My biggest of thanks goes to my beautiful beta [Spice!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap/pseuds/ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap) You're an absolute blessing!
> 
> I strongly recommend listening to the actual sonata while reading (avg. performance time is 15-16 minutes), a beautiful recording of which can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7rxl5KsPjs&ab_channel=LaStravaganza).

**_Lento  
_** _a slow tempo, approximately 45-66 beats per minute_

* * *

Music hadn’t been a choice that Atsumu had actively made for himself.

He had been the one who’d gravitated towards the hobby as a child, who’d closed his tiny fingers around the neck of first a cello, then briefly a viola, before settling on the double bass. He had been the one to persevere through endless roadblocks to learning how to play. He was the one who had felt adrenaline flood his veins as the notes stealing through the air, marked by the rich, deep sound of a bass, had filled his room as a teenager. He had been the instigator, benefactor, and progenitor of classical music playing in his family.

But when it came to making decisions, he’d never had the power to exert dominance. He had tried such, to be met with failure every time. Any attempt to reduce the amount of time he spent with a heavy instrument resting against his legs, or focus his attention elsewhere for too significant a time had resulted in scattered thoughts, itching fingers and a kind of disquiet that simply couldn’t be dispelled.

And Atsumu wore his emotions on his sleeve; his parents had known he would devote himself to music by the time he was 14. Atsumu had known from the moment he’d first walked into his first orchestra that he would live, breathe and die on the strings. His entire life, there had been nothing that would be able to pull him away from his passion.

Joining the Japanese Philharmonic had been a long-term dream come true, but ending up on the same orchestra as Sakusa Kiyoomi was nothing less than a nightmare.

_Your notes were flat_ , he snapped one day. _Your tone is appalling_ , he said the next. “You need to learn to work with others,” their conductor told the man constantly. Atsumu was certain Sakusa chose the route of selective deafness whenever he heard those words.

He seemed to pick on Atsumu especially. He scowled whenever Atsumu so much as asked for a critique on his notes, and on the rare days that he was feeling especially masochistic and asked the virtuoso specifically, Sakusa had a tendency to just wrinkle up his nose, avert his eyes and mutter, “there’s too many things wrong with how you play to pick out just a handful.”

He wasn’t the best co-worker, that was for sure, but it never failed to be fun to wind him up. If the guy wasn’t so damn talented, Atsumu would have written him off entirely. The fact that his playing seemed to have only _improved_ recently was just aggravating.

They didn’t like each other, but generally speaking, they tolerated one another’s existence during rehearsals, and pointedly ignored each other outside of them. Atsumu was more than happy to exist that way.

Fucking Iwaizumi.

“I know you two don’t have the most… _diplomatic_ relationship, but the piece calls for _basso continuo_ , and you’re our best bassist-”

“And yer dead wrong if ya think I wanna be Sakusa’s damn accompanist,” he muttered as he packed his instrument away, already dreading carrying it home on the train. They were being given a week long break to practice individual pieces before reconvening for full rehearsals, and Atsumu tragically couldn’t store his beautiful bass at the theatre. He adored his instrument, he really did, but he did wish it was a little easier to get around.

He considered his options. Double basses were already large, heavy and unwieldy – Atsumu only had two inches of height on the instrument he’d devoted his life to – and trains were usually cramped as is. Maybe a taxi? Nah, he’d get thrown out halfway along the route for fretting over every bump of the journey.

“Atsumu, please-”

“We have other bassists. Why not ask Akaashi? I’ve heard of tha’ piece, and the cello would go with it nicely.”

“You’re not wrong,” the conductor sighed, rubbing at his temples, “but the director agrees with Sakusa that a deeper sound would be better for it. Hence the desire for a double bass. And it’s a complex piece, so he doesn’t feel comfortable trusting it to anyone less than one of our best players.”

On a normal day, Atsumu would be preening under the praise, however inadvertent, but the prospect with which it was attached was too unpleasant to be drowned out. He and Sakusa tolerated one another, but they were able to do so due to the distance mandated between them. It was good that bassists and violins weren’t positioned nearby one another, or Atsumu was fairly sure a fistfight would have broken out by now.

As things were, they tended to just glare at one another over the viola players, which was easily explained away whenever they got called out for it as them sampling glaring _at_ the violists. Hardly a rare phenomenon.

But doing a piece together – a duet piece, no less – would not allow them to mandate that same distance. That would require private practice.

Locking him and Sakusa in a room to practice by themselves for hours on end. That definitely wasn’t a precursor to an episode of a true crime drama or anything.

He shot Iwaizumi a look that he hoped communicated his many, _many_ reservations about the idea, and the older man sighed. “Listen, I know it sounds bad in theory. I’m honestly expecting someone to get brained on the harpsichord before it’s all over, but it’s a beautiful piece that requires talent, and I honestly think you and Sakusa could make something really beautiful out of it.”

Atsumu hesitated, fiddling with the strap on his massive case. “Who was the composer, again?”

“Tartini, so Sakusa will be doing most of the work, really,” Iwaizumi turned begging eyes on him. “Please, Atsumu. The director and I both want this piece included in the performance. It goes for about fifteen minutes, yes, so it’ll be demanding, but the results could really be incredible.”

“If I get a violin bow shoved down my throat, you’re paying my medical bills,” Atsumu sighed, turning away so as to not return the smile that spread over Iwaizumi’s face, shaking his head as he silently grieved the state of his shoulders as he slid the case strap over them.

“Thank you,” Iwaizumi said, gratitude pouring through the words. “You two will do well. I just know it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Atsumu said as they approached the exit together. “How soon can I have the sheet music?”

“Ahh, I can duck by your place tomorrow with it. I’d recommend going over it a few times before practicing with Sakusa. The guy’s incredible, but he _is_ a bit of a perfectionist.”

“Like that was a secret,” Atsumu snorted. “Sounds good. See you then.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Something occurred to him as he watched the conductor walk away, and he ran a hand through his hair before deciding to ask.

“Iwaizumi! What piece is it?”

The shorter man turned partway back to face him, expression illuminated by the nearby lamplight. “Oh, it’s Tartini’s Violin sonata in G minor. The ‘Devil’s Trill’ Sonata.”

_The Devil’s Trill_ , Atsumu thought as he stepped out into the pouring rain, hunkering down to balance his bass better as he turned in the direction of the train station, water already sinking into his clothes. _How fitting._

**_Adagio  
_** _a slow beat with great expression, approximately 66-76 beats per minute_

* * *

Atsumu sighed, tapping his bow against his desk softly as he skimmed over the sheet music again. Iwaizumi had dropped it off to him several days ago, with both the notes for violin and double bass, since Atsumu liked to have a complete picture of the pieces he played, especially when they were only duets, and he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at what would be Sakusa’s section.

It was a complicated violin sonata, he knew that much, with several passages that required a lot of technical skill, but thankfully his own part was much less complex, being a simple _continuo_ section. Regardless, he couldn’t help but marvel over the other’s prowess. It took a lot to be a virtuoso, after all, but, as Atsumu supposed, he’d often neglected thinking about that fact in favour of just criticising Sakusa in his head anyway.

Iwaizumi had given him Sakusa’s phone number on the condition that he didn’t use it to annoy the other or sign up for stupid alerts (which was a wonderful idea that Atsumu hadn’t even considered before, as he’d said to an irate and exhausted Iwaizumi), and as expected, every text he’d received thus far had been short and terse.

**_Virtu-asshole  
_** _Make sure you’ve gone over the fourth movement especially_ 11:35AM  
 _You need to have perfect timing for it since my section is more fast paced_ 11:35AM

**_Me  
_** 11:37AM _Wow and here I was thinking that music had nothing to do with timing  
_ 11:37AM _No shit man_

**_Virtu-asshole  
_** _Just a reminder. You’re free on Wednesdays and Fridays to practice at the theatre, right?_ 11:38AM

Atsumu scowled at the words. It was such a small thing, but one of the most aggravating that Sakusa did. He set the parameters of their rehearsals according to what was possible for him, only going to consult others once he’d already set it in stone. It was aggravating, more so that his plans did, in fact, align with Sakusa’s. he sighed, before responding in a way that he hoped let his passive aggression show.

**_Me  
_** 11:40AM _Yeah, I can do those days, but maybe think to ask ahead of time rather than just shoving this practice around according to what you’re available for, alright?_

**_Virtu-asshole  
_** _Yeah okay_ 11:41AM  
 _I’ll reserve practice room 3 for us. It has the best music stands and the least dust_ 11:41AM

**_Me  
_** 11:41AM _Ahh, a bit particular about that, huh?_

**_Virtu-asshole  
_** _Well I prefer a clean practice space but that’s not the point. I remember Iwaizumi telling a story about you having hay fever last year and I’d rather not watch you sneeze all over your bass_ 11:42AM

Atsumu blinked, a little taken off guard before his irritation returned. Of course, Sakusa would be the type to get worked up over the smallest things. He didn’t know what he’d expected, though. The guy was a perfectionist asshole. It stood to reason that he was also a clean-freak, micro-managing perfectionist asshole.

He texted back a quick agreement, hoping that his tone came through via text just as clipped as it would have in real life, and dumped his phone on the table, groaning.

“Ya look like shit,” his twin said, sidling up behind him with a can of Atsumu’s favourite tuna in hand, which only sunk his mood further. “Did ya drop ya bass on yer foot again?”

“No,” Atsumu huffed. “And don’ make that sound like it ain’t painful, ya jerk. The damn thing weighs 11 kilos.”

“And yet ya chose to spend yer life lugging it around.”

“Hmpf,” Atsumu huffed, “whatever. Look at the shit that Sakusa sent me.” He held out his phone and Osamu took it, scrolling through the messages with a slightly bemused look on his face.

“What’s the issue?”

He threw his hands up dramatically. “Whaddaya mean? He’s so stuck up he can’ fathom the thought of me even sneezin’ near him. Asshole.”

Osamu quirked and eyebrow. “That’s how ya interpreted that? Seemed more considerate to me. Yer allergies _do_ get really shit. Ya can barely breathe half the time.”

Atsumu pouted, some of the angry heat in his belly dissipating. “I mean…”

Osamu laughed. “I think yer way too eager to catch out any and all flaws with this guy just because ya don’t like him. I get not wantin’ to spend more time than necessary with someone ya don’t like, but he doesn’t seem like he’s actively tryin’ to be a nuisance.”

“Yah, well, ya never met him,” Atsumu grumbled, eyes tracing the texts again and reflecting that maybe he _had_ been a touch too harsh. “Whatever. I’ll see him Wednesday, I guess. Here’s to hopin’ that he doesn’t shove his violin bow down my throat.”

Osamu chuckled, spooning more of the tuna Atsumu had bought into his mouth. “Right. I’m sure ya’ll be fine. Yer both professionals, aren’t ya? Just practice the piece and be done with it. It’s not like a school project where ya gotta kiss each other’s asses; if one of ya fucks up, people are gonna know it was them.”

“True,” Atsumu conceded with a sigh. “I’m only the _continuo_ , anyway. Sakusa does most of the work.”

“So? Less for ya to worry about,” Osamu reasoned. “Even if ya don’t like him, he’s first violin for a reason, right? And yer first-string bass. Yer both at least _competent_.”

“I guess.”

“When are the two of ya meetin’, anyway?”

“Wednesday,” Atsumu sighed. “Let’s hope I survive it.”

**_Andante  
_** _playing at a walking pace, approximately 76-108 beats per minute_

* * *

Sakusa was already in the practice room by the time Atsumu arrived, carefully guiding his unwieldy instrument inside as he fought to stop the door closing on him. A hand emerged from behind it, tugging the heavy door back so he could get inside. Sakusa looked manifestly unimpressed, but Atsumu swallowed his already burgeoning irritation and muttered thanks to him.

“Did you practice the fourth movement like I told you to?” Sakusa asked as Atsumu pulled his bass out, carefully inspecting it like always to make sure he hadn’t damaged it at all while manhandling it across town.

“Yah, I practiced it,” he said, rolling his eyes as he checked the tuning before relaxing into a chair and propping the instrument up on his leg, the weight familiar and comforting as he pulled out his sheet music and skimmed his eyes over it. “But most of that is yer playin’, remember, so ya can’t get mad at me, aight?”

“I’ll get mad at you if you mess up a simple continuo section,” Sakusa snapped, sliding his violin smoothly up to rest on his collarbone. “I want to be sure that you’re taking this whole thing seriously.”

Atsumu scowled, but also got into position to start the piece. “What, ya think I’m not? Fuck off, Sakusa, I’m just as serious about music as ya are.”

“Sure,” Sakusa muttered. “Do try to keep up.”

The first section of the piece – to be played _larghetto ma non troppo_ – was languid and smooth, a strangely comforting piece of music to listen to. Atsumu’s own section wasn’t very taxing, so he simply let himself play languidly, unable to keep himself from appreciating the sound of Sakusa’s playing.

_Damn, ya really are an asshole, but_ _shit_ _can ya play_.

The violin notes swelled for a scattered handful of moments, and Atsumu’s bass rose to meet it. The music was the sole sound between them, not even a hint of breathing detectable above the notes. Somehow, for as tensely as the lead-up to this initial practice had been, the actual event was…calm. His eyes traced the notes of his own _continuo_ carefully, sound rising in intensity at perhaps the three-and-a-half-minute mark. As the sound bled away, the first movement completed after four solid minutes of playing, he dared a look at Sakusa.

The virtuoso looked calm, almost placid, an expression so out of sorts on his face that it was slightly jarring. The usual furrow between his brows was smooth, mouth in a flat line rather than the scowl it was usually twisted up in. Atsumu observed him curiously, his gaze met by dark eyes as Sakusa glanced over at him, expression immediately souring.

“We won’t have breaks between movements during the actual performance,” he snapped, “get in position to start movement two.”

Right. How could he forget? Despite how calm Sakusa might have looked playing the piece, he was still at heart an immense dickhead. Atsumu rolled his eyes and obliged.

Movement two. _Allegro moderato._ From the beginning it sounded far more energetic than the first, Sakusa’s level of skill more immediately obvious from the rapid-fire movements of his bow and careful concentration.

Atsumu focused on his own section, which too had become more complicated with the start of the second movement. As hesitant as he was to play _continuo_ , not least because he _was_ the first-string bassist, there was something nice about complimenting skill like Sakusa’s.

The sudden increase of speed made Atsumu grin slightly. He’d always loved faster pieces, though technically complicated ones that required a greater show of skill were a personal favourite, too. It wasn’t that Atsumu considered himself the best double bassist in the world by any means, or that he thought his own playing was beyond critique, but he did love any good opportunity to show off his skills.

He was halfway to being a prodigy, as his parents had said, but the other half of his current skill came from years of relentless practice and hard work. It wasn’t too bad a thing to have all of that effort acknowledged every once in a while.

Osamu called him vain for it. Atsumu considered it just receiving the attention that years of breaking his back (both figuratively and literally, considering the weight of his instrument) deserved.

The third movement. _Andante_ . The room they were practicing in _was_ blessedly dust-free, and Atsumu’s nose was very grateful for it. Perhaps he had been a little too harsh in the judgement he’d made of Sakusa’s messages. He looked at the violinist again, whose playing had slowed for the current section, eyes lightly shut. The guy had impressively long eyelashes, which kissed his cheekbones with every light dip of his eyelids-

His playing sped up rapidly, the sudden change in notes breaking Atsumu from his reverie. He forced his attention back to his own instrument. _Focus_.

Fourth movement. _Allegro assai._ Then _andante._ Then _allegro assai_ again. Atsumu was so caught up in the lines of his own amplifying accompaniment that he almost didn’t notice the small errors.

One swept by almost unnoticed. The next caught his attention more. By the third, he was frowning at Sakusa, and Sakusa was frowning at his hands angrily as if they had wronged him. They pulled through the rest of the sweeping final movement, but by the time the last note had faded out, Atsumu had counted more than seven errors in the violin section, and Sakusa was cursing like a sailor.

“I think ya-”

“I _know_ I messed the last movement up, Miya, I don’t need you to tell me that,” Sakusa snapped, expression pinched tightly as he shut his folder of sheet music angrily after skimming the lines he’d messed up. “It’s a technically complex section, alright?”

Atsumu blinked. “I wasn’t gonna rag on ya. We all fuck up pieces sometimes.”

“Whatever,” Sakusa snapped, shoving his things away with far more aggression than the motions required. “Your _continuo_ was good. I’ll work on the fourth movement at home.”

“Ya made me come all the way here fer us to only play it once?” Atsumu said incredulously, “Yer kiddin’, right?”

“I have to practice,” Sakusa muttered, storming out without so much as a second glance as Atsumu stared after him in shock.

“Mother _fucker_.”

**_Moderato  
_** _a moderate speed, approximately 108-120 beats per minute_

* * *

By the time Atsumu got into contact with Sakusa again, four days had passed since their first practice of the piece. He had maintained his own practice again, utilising YouTube to play the violin section and properly align all of his notes. The piece _was_ beautiful, something he could truly appreciate now that he wasn’t all tense from practicing with Sakusa in the same room.

He’d looked into the violin section of the piece more carefully after their joint practice, and he had to admit that it was rather complex. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see a normal violinist struggle over it, but it was a little jarring to see _Sakusa_ struggle over it.

For as long as they’d known each other, Sakusa had been the orchestra’s poster boy, the perfect virtuoso who never made mistakes and struck down those who dared demonstrate imperfection. To see him crumple over a complex movement was unsettling at best. To watch it happen _more than once_ was borderline ethereal.

And yet the same thing that had happened in their first practice together was replicated again in their second, and again in their third and fourth. Sakusa made less mistakes, but still made them, and the deep furrow in his forehead after the incorrect notes had registered kept Atsumu silent.

Normally he would have prodded and nudged, determined to point out the mistakes that Sakusa was all too happy to scrutinise in other people. But something in the other man’s composure felt high-strung and frayed, and had since the first messages Atsumu had sent after their initial practice.

“I’ll get it,” Sakusa said through gritted teeth after they had run through the piece for a sixth time. “I just need to do some more private practice.”

“Right,” Atsumu said dubiously, already recognising the impending dismissal and lowering his bow. “Raincheck?”

Sakusa gritted his teeth, eyes fixed on his sheet music. “Raincheck.”

Atsumu basically bolted for the door, barely stopping to safely put his instrument away before rushing outside. He sighed in relief once he was clear, shoulders sagging a little. He had practically perfected his _continuo_ section, so constantly being shut out of joint practice opportunities was starting to get frustrating. He couldn’t see how the two of them would sound any good if Sakusa kept having fucking conniptions about individual notes he was fucking up.

He was reaching for the handle of the outside door of the theatre, ready to head straight home again when he realised with a start that he had forgotten his folder of sheet music. He groaned, glancing hesitantly back at the hallway he’d just speedily exited. He didn’t particularly want to go back and confront the violinist again, but he had been planning to practice more tonight, especially since his neighbours were back from a short holiday they’d taken, and their restless infant daughter seemed to like hearing him play.

Groaning, he cracked his neck from side to side, leant his bass carefully up against the wall and pivoted, marching back towards the practice rooms. He would just ignore Sakusa’s undoubtedly judgemental glare, perhaps throw him a sickly-sweet smile, and grab his shit. Then he could go home, make some ramen and get in a few more hours of practice-

He paused with his hand hovering in front of the doorknob, having been wrenched unpleasantly from his thoughts by the low noises coming from beyond the door.

“Sakusa?” he asked cautiously, hoping that he wasn’t interrupting some kind of weird monologue as he knocked on the door gently. There was no response except a low, strange noise and, half-regretting what he would see, Atsumu swung the door open, peering in cautiously.

His blood ran cold. He’d been expecting at worst for Sakusa to be muttering to himself as he worked over the notes, perhaps calling someone to bitch out Atsumu for some reason.

Not to see Sakusa, always so proud and callous, bent double, fingers fisted in his hair and skin pale. Not to see his hands shaking and nails digging into his scalp.

Definitely not to hear him hyperventilating, a sound overlaid by soft, straggling sobs that tore their way free of his throat like they hurt to give voice to.

_Panic attack_ , Atsumu’s buffering brain provided. _That’s a panic attack._

_Sakusa Kiyoomi is having a fucking panic attack_.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Atsumu said moving over to his side and hovering about a metre or so away before taking another step closer and kneeling. “Hey, Sakusa, can ya hear me?”

The only sound that he received in response was a low whine, and he bit his lip nervously, shuffling closer and carefully resting a hand on Sakusa’s arm, taking care not to touch his bare skin. “Hey, it’s okay, Sakusa, yer gonna be okay. I’m right here with ya.”

The sound of ragged breathing made him wince, and he gently manoeuvred Sakusa so that he was gripping the front of Atsumu’s jacket rather than his own hair, and gently smoothed his own fingers over the abused locks for a moment. They were soft, startlingly so. “I’m gonna count, okay?” Atsumu said gently. “I’m gonna start at one and go up to ten, do ya think ya can count with me?”

Sakusa shrugged, eyes blank and wide with terror, and Atsumu nodded to himself. “Alright, one………two………three………four………”

Sakusa didn’t even open his mouth to try speaking until Atsumu had reached nine, and his breathing had only started to level out once they’d hit number four on the list for the third time. Atsumu just stayed close, murmuring encouragement between sets of numbers and rubbing soothing circles into the violinist’s back.

Slowly, painstakingly, the panic faded from Sakusa’s expression, his breathing eased out, and the tension in his rigid muscles finally conceded defeat, to the point that he was slumped half over Atsumu’s shoulder. He just hooked a warm arm around his waist, continued to gently coax the virtuoso out of his panic, and waited. A glance at the windows revealed that the sky outside, formerly striped with vibrant sunset colours, was now pitch-dark.

“Ya okay?” he asked softly as Sakusa pulled away, head lowered, and red-rimmed eyes averted.

“Yeah,” he croaked, voice sounding thoroughly abused from his earlier hyperventilating. “…Sorry.”

“Whattaya apologisin’ fer?” he asked as he got back to his feet and offered Sakusa a hand up, slightly surprised when the other man took it. “Not like ya can help that kinda thing. Ya feelin’ better?”

“A little,” Sakusa muttered, eyes following him curiously when Atsumu finally located what he had actually come back for – his sheet music – and crammed it into his bag. “Thank you.”

“Eh? No worries. D’ya get them often?”

“Depends,” Sakusa muttered, his recovery evident in how short and clipped his replies were becoming. “Can we just forget about it?”

Atsumu watched him for a long moment. The violinist had looked angry and exhausted from the moment he’d shown up, but right now he looked like a walking corpse. It wasn’t like Atsumu hadn’t noticed the slight downward dip Sakusa had been going through recently – healthwise, at least, since it was only a small part of his playing that was suffering – but today was the first time he’d truly appreciated how bad it was.

Not only did Sakusa generally look like he lacked sleep and needed a few Advil, but he’d also been losing weight, something that he now scrutinised with a more critical eye.

“Ya’ve been losin’ weight, ya know,” Atsumu said, shouldering his bag and holding the door open for a still slightly shaky Sakusa. “I was gonna pop by a yakitori place I know-”, he’d had no such plans, but Sakusa didn’t need to know that, “-ya wanna come with?”

Sakusa hesitated, fingers playing nervously with the strap on his bag. “I need to wash my face,” he muttered. Atsumu shrugged.

“I can wait.”

Sakusa eyed him for a long moment. “Why bother?”

“Because ya look like yer about to keel over, so ya should get some food into ya.”

“For the sake of the performance, right?”

Atsumu gave him a funny look. “Because yer a person, and as annoyin’ as ya can be, I don’t hate ya. So, go wash yer face, then let’s get yakitori.”

“…Okay,” Sakusa murmured, still looking mildly perplexed, “I’ll…give me five minutes.”

Atsumu nodded, leaning against the wall and tugging out his phone to see if he’d had any new messages from either his brother or one of his absurd friends. It took Sakusa three replies’ worth to walk back into the hallway, the redness around his eyes greatly reduced and his expression now sheepish. He looked rather like he wanted to back out, but Atsumu didn’t want to so much as give him the option to do so, grabbing his elbow the minute they were out the door and steering him towards the train station. “It’s this way. They have really good _tebamoto_ , ya know-”

He kept up a constant string of conversation, cutting smoothly across Sakusa every time he tried to open his mouth and change his mind, not letting up the onslaught until they were being ushered towards a table, both of them pausing to carefully put down their instruments before taking a seat themselves.

“Here’s a tip, Omi,” Atsumu said as he shoved a menu into the other man’s hands, “if yer gonna try and back outta a decision by tellin’ someone that, don’t do it to someone ya’ve ragged on before fer never shuttin’ up.” He gave Sakusa a pointed look as the words registered, then slapped the top of his menu. “Fer real, they got good shit. Take a look at least.”

Sakusa stared at him for a moment, taken off guard, before apparently deciding to get it over with and opening his own menu, eyes gaining back a little of their light as he perused the options.

“…Is the _torinegi_ any good?” he asked shyly. Atsumu beamed at him, nodding vigorously.

“Yah! They do it really well here, actually.”

“…Alright then.”

Dinner together was a surprisingly peaceful affair, with them trading small anecdotes and stories from past orchestras they’d been in, as well as a few more light-hearted family stories. Atsumu kept the conversation steered very clear of their duet piece, not wanting to repeat the earlier incident.

It was actually enjoyable, so much so that Atsumu felt completely comfortable about falling into step alongside Sakusa as they left the restaurant.

“I…wanted to say thank you,” Sakusa murmured, eyes fixed anywhere but Atsumu’s face as they walked, “I know I’ve been demanding for no reason. Your _continuo_ section is good.”

“I mean, perfection is kinda the goal as a musician, though, ain’t it?” he said. “And I get it. Yer our best violinist. If I ain’t on the same level I drag ya down with me.”

“You are the same level, though,” Sakusa murmured, his words slightly startling, “I just…I was raised to always aim for perfection. I was…looked down upon if I didn’t achieve it. So, I can’t really…handle things, when I’m not able to achieve perfection.”

Atsumu eyed him curiously, something in Sakusa’s words and expression rubbing him the wrong way.

“So, overbearin’ parents, then?” he asked cautiously. Sakusa inclined his head in a kind of so-so gesture.

“I guess you could say that,” he murmured, rolling his shoulders. “I…they don’t really talk to me. I…” he swallowed before continuing, “They're not allowed to. Legally.”

Atsumu’s stomach dropped. “Oh.”

Silence reigned between them a moment before Atsumu cleared his throat, scrabbling for something to say. “Ya don’t have to be perfect all the time, ya know. I ain’t gonna lose my shit if ya fuck up a note or two.”

“I know,” Sakusa murmured, folding his arms against the cold. “I…I’ll try.”

Atsumu smiled softly. “So, see ya on Wednesday?”

“Yeah,” Sakusa said, voice soft, “see you on Wednesday.”

**_Allegro  
_** _a fast, quick, and bright tempo, approximately 120-168 beats per minute_

* * *

As it turned out, Atsumu and Sakusa didn’t end up practicing at the theatre on Wednesday. Predominantly because he and the rest of the orchestra got an email explaining that the theatre was undergoing fumigation before big performances could happen. Atsumu had read it in bed after he’d woken up, sighed and expected to get a text from Sakusa calling off their practice that day.

Instead he’d gotten a message asking if he would like to practice at Sakusa’s house instead, fought down the inexplicable surge of anticipation that the very sentiment aroused in him, and agreed.

His phone pinged a few minutes later, as he was brushing his teeth and debating whether or not to bother removing the slight five o’clock shadow he was rocking, the message containing nothing more than an address and the small aside that he could come over whenever he wanted.

Seeing that sentence so blatant under Sakusa’s name in his phone stirred something unnameable in his chest as he replied to tell Sakusa he would come around in about an hour. He tugged on some of his nicer clothes, unsure of why making sure he looked alright felt more important than usual. He hardly turned up to orchestral practices looking sloppy, after all. He forcefully shrugged off the odd feeling and picked up his bass, yelling out where he was going to Osamu before ducking out the door.

He hadn’t known exactly what to expect when it came to the home of one Sakusa Kiyoomi, but a small, semi-traditional building which revealed an apartment that was downright cosy was not it. Where he’d assumed he would see modern style and sterile areas, he was instead greeted by an apartment that looked well-lived in, every surface clean but also lightly cluttered with books, bright houseplants and other small knick-knacks. The lounge area was decorated by colourful throw rugs and a stack of obviously handmade coasters that appeared to have been rendered by a child’s hand.

Sakusa welcomed him, dressed in an oversized, bottle-green wool sweater and soft black pants, hair slightly messy in a way that was indicative of potential bedhead, and a mug of coffee in one hand. The sight made Atsumu’s heart lurch uncomfortably in his chest.

“I will warn you,” the violinist said, voice low and footsteps muted on the wooden floor, “my nephew is staying with me right now, and he quite likes classical, so he might come out to investigate when we start playing.”

“Ahh, cute,” Atsumu chuckled, making sure to toe his boots off at the door and neatly arrange them along with the others assembled there before following. “How old is he?”

“Only six,” Sakusa said, expression softening with clear fondness, “he’s my sister Norie’s son. She was going to Singapore for a few days, so I volunteered to take him. Better than a babysitter, anyway.”

“Yah, definitely,” he said, glancing around the apartment curiously. “Ya got a nice place.”

“Oh, thank you. Do you want any coffee? I have a whole pot ready.”

“Oh, that’d be good, thanks.”

“No worries,” Sakusa murmured as he pulled out a mug, eyes sliding back to Atsumu. “Do you have any nieces or nephews? You mentioned you have a brother.”

“Oh, yah, Osamu, but nah, no kids. Yer sister is a lot older than ya, ain’t she?”

“Yeah, both of them are,” Sakusa explained, looking mildly disgusted when Atsumu happily took the offered mug and drank the coffee black. “Norie is 10 years my senior, Hana has 8 on me,” he smiled, a little self-deprecatingly. “I was the accident.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a few little accidents every now and then,” Atsumu chuckled, words pulled free by what Sakusa had implied about his parents at their last practice. “What’s yer nephew’s name?”

“Kazuyaki. Kazu for short,” Sakusa explained, vanishing behind a wall for a moment and reappearing with his violin in hand, sheet music tucked under his arm. “He’s a good kid, but very nosy whenever I bring my violin out.”

“Ahh, perhaps a future virtuoso himself, then?” Atsumu asked with a grin, arranging his own music on the portable stand he’d brought with him.

“Perhaps. He still seems to be trying to settle on what string instrument he wants to learn,” Sakusa said, getting into position, “So hopefully he picks violin. You good to start?”

“Yah,” Atsumu said, “let’s do this.”

The first movement of the piece was one the two of them had essentially perfect at this point, notes flowing smoothly and beautifully from both instruments. The space they were in was small, but the acoustics weren’t too bad, and Atsumu found himself grinning when, as they drew the first movement to a close, he heard the patter of small feet.

“You’re playing violin!” a shrill voice shrieked with delight a moment before a small boy with wild black curls – it must have been a Sakusa family trait – came careening into the lounge room with a positively radiant grin. He froze when he saw Atsumu, blinking in surprise, but crept closer anyway, eyes fixed on his instrument with barely contained glee.

“Atsumu, this is Kazu. Kazu, this is my friend Atsumu. He’s in the orchestra too.”

“Hiya buddy, nice to meet ya,” Atsumu said with a grin, waving at him. Kazu’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he bounced closer, evidently having deemed Atsumu trustworthy.

“Wha’s your instrument? That’s not a violin, is it?”

“Nah, this is a double bass,” he said, moving his music stand so Kazu could come closer, “it’s a string instrument, too, but it makes a real different sound to the violin.”

“Oooh, really?” Kazu bounced up and down, grinning in a way that exposed that one of his front teeth was missing. Atsumu felt his heart melt. _Cute kid_.

“Ya wanna hear?” he asked. Kazu nodded eagerly and, chuckling, Atsumu drew his bow across the highest string, before moving down the scale. Kazu practically screeched in delight at the sound of the lowest note before clamouring for him to play it again.

“Kazu-chan, we do have to practice,” Sakusa said with a fond smile, reaching over to ruffle the kid’s hair. The boy pouted, and Atsumu grinned, an idea coming to mind.

“How about this,” he said, shuffling slightly, “we need to run through this piece a few times, and it takes about fifteen minutes to play, yeah?” when Kazu nodded, he smiled and continued, “If ya let yer uncle and I play through it twice more, then hose about after I show ya how to play this?”

The boy lit up like he’d been offered a lifetime supply of candy, practically vibrating in place as he nodded frantically. “Pwease, pwease!”

“Aight, just give us half an hour to practice then, yah buddy? Then I can show ya why the bass is better than violin.”

“Subjective,” Sakusa muttered with a small smile as Kazu agreed happily and ran over to sit on a chair on the other side of the room, watching them with rapt attention. Atsumu grinned, getting back into position.

“Shall we?”

It was strange to have Kazu watch them – whenever Atsumu played, it was usually to an audience of nil (sometimes one, if Osamu had nothing better to do), or to a theatre packed to the rafters – so being under the scrutiny of just one young boy was definitely a new experience. The small whoops and cheers that were interspersed throughout their practice were a welcome change, though. Music didn’t tend to get a lot of active cheerleaders like sports did, and though it had been years since Atsumu had juggled music and sport in high school, he did sometimes miss the positive attention.

He could practically _feel_ the boy’s impatience as they started the second run-through, but true to his word, didn’t so much as budge from the seat until they’d drawn to a close again.

Sakusa’s section had gotten better, Atsumu noted as he beckoned over an exhilarated Kazu and started to show him and name each string. The violinist seemed less uptight after his meltdown in the music room, and though he had still made a few mistakes, he’d powered through them rather than furrowing his brow and getting anxious over them like he had been before.

It was nice to see the guy relaxing a little, and even nicer to see him lean against the kitchen counter and smile softly as Atsumu sat Kazu in his chair and showed him how he was supposed to hold the bow. The instrument was comically big next to the small boy – it stood almost as tall as Atsumu did, so a six-year-old had no chance – and he made sure to keep a careful grip on the fingerboard as Kazu plucked a few strings experimentally, so as to avoid any shin injuries.

The kid was almost sinfully cute, happily bouncing around and asking questions once Atsumu had reclaimed his instrument. He answered them diligently and excitedly, with a grin in place as Sakusa slid away to procure food.

“I think you’ve converted him into a bass player, Miya,” Sakusa said, watching his nephew fondly as he ran off, finally having finished interrogating Atsumu, “I’ll have to cast him out as a blood traitor now.”

“Nice, he can become my protégé,” Atsumu laughed, plucking an _umeboshi_ out of a bag when Sakusa offered him one. “He’s a sweet kid.”

“He is. You’re very good with children.”

“Oh! Thanks. Nothin’ special really, I just try to make ‘em feel like they’re actually bein’ listened to, ya know?”

“So simple, yet something that so many parents can’t manage,” Sakusa lamented, popping another _umeboshi_ into his mouth and sitting down. Atsumu hesitated, the sad line of Sakusa’s mouth making his stomach churn.

“Sakusa-”

“I’m fine, Miya,” Sakusa said gently, “I swear. Not because of the fact that it was a long time ago, or anything like that. I put time into making myself better. I know I have a tendency to sound so caught up when I even mention it but…you don’t need to look at me like that.” he reached over, thumb gently pressing into the space between Atsumu’s eyebrows. “Frowning doesn’t suit you.”

“Got it,” Atsumu murmured. Sakusa pulled away, his not-quite-a-smile returning.

“Should we run through it again?”

“Yeah.”

Atsumu barely understood Sakusa Kiyoomi. He barely understood what had happened to him, only that he had obviously grown past it. He didn’t know how the other was so talented, and for all the puzzle pieces that had been shown to him recently, he had no better grasp on the picture as a whole.

All he knew was Sakusa played violin like no one he’d ever seen. And his not-smile made his chest get all warm.

And that maybe, agreeing to this duet hadn’t been a bad idea at all.

**_Presto  
_** _a very, very fast tempo, approximately 168-200 beats per minute_

* * *

Sakusa nailed the section he’d been struggling through just two days before their opening performance was set to take place. Atsumu watched him master the complicated movements with a smile on his face. He smiled wider when, every time they played the piece afterwards, Sakusa moved as if he’d never struggled with anything in the fourth movement at all.

The next day saw Atsumu scrambling to pack his things after remembering that because of the late-night banquet after the performance, the orchestra would be staying in a hotel near the conservatorium they were playing at.

“Yer really hopeless,” Osamu said, not lifting so much as a finger to help as Atsumu flew around the room in a panic, trying to find everything he would need. “Ya’ve known about this fer weeks and yet ya only pack yer shit now.”

“Shut it, Samu,” he groaned, turning in a circle despondently, “have ya seen my shoes?”

“The proper fancy ones? Out in the livin’ room,” Osamu said, rolling his eyes. “Fer real, ya been really scattered the last few weeks, Tsumu.”

“I’ve been stressed out about the duet part.”

“Stressed about the duet or that virtuoso?” Osamu asked, raising an eyebrow. “I ain’t stupid, I seen ya starin’ at him yesterday.”

Atsumu stared at him, stomach turning over uncomfortably. Truthfully, after their successful final practice yesterday, the two of them had gone out along with little Kazu to grab something nice to eat. And Sakusa and Kazu had both ended up walking with him until they’d ended up at his door. So Osamu, aka the nosiest neighbour to ever exist, had definitely seen them through the window at that point.

But he hadn’t stared at _Sakusa_ – the guy was objectively good-looking, yes, that was a fact he’d acknowledged from their very first meeting – but he wasn’t into his fellow musicians like that.

“Don’t be stupid, Samu,” he grumbled as he went to fetch his shoes, nervously ensuring they were polished before sticking them in his bag. “We’re…well friends now, I guess, but I don’t pass my time starin’ at him.”

Osamu gave him an unimpressed look. “Right. Yer gay ass spends zero time starin’ at a man that looks like _that_. I believe ya.”

Atsumu shot him a withering look. “Ahh piss off, ya scrub. I gotta focus.”

Osamu held his hands up in surrender. “Aight. Tell me how it goes. With both the performance and ya boytoy.”

Atsumu threw a pair of socks at him. “Shut up, loser.”

His brother departed with one last cackle, Atsumu rolling his eyes all the while as he shoved the last of his things in and zipped the bag up. Iwaizumi had messaged him earlier to say that they’d somehow acquired a bus to take them to the theatre, with plenty of storage space for their instruments, and he sighed in relief upon realising that he still had twenty minutes before it was set to arrive.

His phone buzzed, and he scooped it up curiously, blinking when he saw that the number on screen was Sakusa’s. He answered tentatively, a little lost as to why the violinist would be calling him.

“Yah?”

“Hey,” Sakusa’s low voice said, a slight chuckle making Atsumu’s stomach flip-flop, “just making sure that you’re gonna be ready on time. I don’t think we’d leave without you, but Iwaizumi looks a little high-strung, so anything’s possible.”

Atsumu laughed at the mental image, stowing his bag alongside his bass after doing a last check to make sure he had everything. “I bet. Dontcha worry, Omi-kun, I’m all packed.”

Sakusa paused. “Omi-kun?”

Atsumu felt his face redden. “Well, uh, yah, I nickname all my friends, so I thought I should give ya one.”

“…Alright,” Sakusa murmured, voice soft, “we, uh, we’re about five minutes away. You ready?”

“Yup!” Atsumu said, trying to dismiss the warmth in his gut. “See ya soon.”

The minute the call was over, he put his head in his hands, groaned, and reflected that maybe, his brother had a point.

* * *

The low hum of the audience filtering into the auditorium did nothing to calm the last minute nerves that seemed to have possessed Sakusa as Atsumu watched him almost obsessively check the tuning on his violin. Iwaizumi kept shooting concerned looks at the virtuoso, and after a few more minutes of watching the same anxiety play out, Atsumu sighed, left his instrument in the care of Akaashi, and wove his way over to the other man.

“Heya, ya ready?” he asked as he sat down next to him. “I think if ya tune yer violin anymore ya’ll snap the thing in half.”

Sakusa froze like he’d been burned, and Atsumu reached out to gently take the instrument from him, running a hand carefully over the fingerboard before plucking at one of the strings. “Ya know, even if ya do fuck up a note, I’m the only one who’s heard the piece enough to know,” he winked, “and I won’t turn ya in.”

Sakusa’s tense shoulders relaxed somewhat, fingers entangling slightly with Atsumu’s on the neck of the instrument. “…I know.”

“So, stop stressin’,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a loose curl behind Sakusa’s ear, “just focus on my perfect _continuo_.”

That finally coaxed a smile out of the violinist. “Will do.”

“Alright, let’s do this!” Iwaizumi said over their heads, clapping his hands with a smile. “Time to put all that practice to good use!”

Atsumu shot one more blinding smile at Sakusa as they both stood, ready to perform.

“Remember, first movement is _larghetto ma non troppo-_ ” Sakusa murmured.

“Second is _allegro moderato-_ ” Atsumu continued.

“Third is _andante-_ ”

“And fourth is _allegro assai, andante, allegro assai,_ ” they said together, smiling softly at one another.

“Let’s do this,” Atsumu said, fetching his instrument and sending the violinist one last smile before making his way over to the bass section, nodding at the other first strings before taking a seat.

The curtains swept open to reveal the massive audience, Atsumu shot one last lingering look at Sakusa over the heads of the viola players, and the orchestra dived into their first piece.

It felt like an eternity passed between their first piece and when Atsumu and Sakusa’s duet was due to fall, running through the motions of Tchaikovsky’s _Pathétique_ , Gorecki’s 3rd symphony, something by Bach and _La Campanella_ before Iwaizumi eyed him meaningfully, and he got himself ready.

He met Sakusa’s eyes as the rest of the orchestra paused, some looking grateful for the break as he readied his bow, and Sakusa mirrored his own movements.

The first movement was the easiest, languid and gentle, soothing in its own way as Sakusa’s refined playing melded effortlessly with the deeper notes produced by Atsumu’s bass. He watched the look on Sakusa’s face as they played, seeking out any hint of anxiety. There was none for the first movement – unsurprising, given that this was one section they’d always had down pat.

Second movement; Sakusa’s part was more energetic straight away, the rapid-fire movements of his wrist transfixing as he swayed slightly under the overhanging lights. His skin, always smooth and porcelain-like, looked unbelievably tantalising under the soft glow from above. Atsumu’s mouth dried out, Osamu’s words once again ringing in his head.

Third movement. The pace slid back to become more relaxed, but Atsumu’s thoughts were unable to follow suit, especially not with how Sakusa’s dark curls looked rich as ink as he played. Black eyes met his for a split second as Sakusa’s expression momentarily displayed hesitance. Obviously finding something in Atsumu’s expression that reassured him, he turned back away, notes as fluid and perfect as they always were. Atsumu’s heart started to thud.

Finally. The fourth movement. Sakusa’s gaze was back on him in an instant, only the slightest furrow in his brow exposing how much time he’d devoted to perfecting this part of the piece. Atsumu watched him in return as his own _continuo_ sped up, increasing in speed and grandiosity as Tartini had demanded.

The notes swelled, Atsumu’s heart rate sped up along with it, and he watched Sakusa toss his head back lightly to flick his hair back. He was absolutely mesmerising. They switched from low, smooth notes back to _allegro assai_ with startling suddenness, and Atsumu was powerless to do anything but play, stare into the dark wells of Sakusa’s eyes, and realise that though he’d hated the other man before, that would never be the truth again.

A slow, gradual build from sudden silence back up to fast-paced notes. The piece was a beautiful one, but the artistry it had to offer dulled in the presence of Sakusa’s brilliance.

The rough patch Sakusa had hated came up with startling speed, and Atsumu held his breath as the virtuoso played the notes.

To absolute perfection.

The smile on his face was blatant now, he was sure, but he didn’t care to hide his joy as they glided through the last few minutes of the piece with ease, coming to a stop with every eye in the room on them.

The audience broke into applause, as did many of the musicians scattered around them. Iwaizumi was watching him with a curious look on his face. He’d obviously noticed their blatant mutual staring as they’d played; a conversation he would have to awkwardly ward his way through later. That didn’t even matter, though. He’d bypassed _presto_ , heart singing to the impossible pace of _prestissimo_ as his eyes found Sakusa’s though the crowd. 

The violinist was smiling as he bowed to the audience before retaking his seat. Atsumu shook off the feeling of light-headedness that had come over him, schooled his expression, and got ready to continue playing.

* * *

The banquet held after their opening night was in a beautiful venue, and the entire orchestra looked sleek and professional in their formal clothes, mingling with the upper-class people who’d somehow bought or nagged their way into attendance. Atsumu got more than a few slaps on the back and congratulations for his part in the ‘beautiful Tartini duet’. Iwaizumi himself had slung an arm around his shoulders and complimented them both.

But he was blind to all of it, eyes searching only for Sakusa in the wide, packed room. He didn’t often have emotional revelations while playing to thousands of people, but there was a first time for everything.

He’d reflected on his next move during the rest of the performance, before ultimately deciding that for once, actual maturity was the best way to address the issue. He wanted to date Sakusa. If Sakusa wanted to date him, excellent. If he didn’t, then Atsumu would leave it at that and make sure to maintain a friendly, professional relationship.

Simple.

“Hey, I was looking for you.”

Actually, not simple. Since when had the thought of speaking with Sakusa felt so monumental?

He spun around and gave the violinist a blinding grin, deciding to take advantage of their mutual happiness to wrap the other man in a hug. “Hey! What did I tell ya? Played to perfection!”

“T-thanks,” Sakusa murmured, cautiously returning the hug. “Your _continuo_ was perfect, too.”

“I know,” Atsumu said as he pulled away with a wink, “we did good.”

“Yeah,” Sakusa chuckled, cheeks a little red from the praise, “I think I picked well.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, Iwaizumi didn’t tell you?” Sakusa suddenly went much redder. “Well…I told him what piece I wanted to do, and he asked what bass player I wanted for the _continuo…_ I knew you were the best so I asked him to convince you.”

Atsumu stared at him, his initial conversation with Iwaizumi reworking itself with the addition of new context. “Oh.”

“I probably should have just asked you myself, yes, but-”

“It’s fine,” Atsumu said, his smile returning softly, “I’m glad ya picked me.” Sakusa’s gentle smile was worth every minute of sniping and bitching they had aimed at one another, and Atsumu remembered why he’d been looking for the violinist initially. “I, uh, actually had somethin’ to talk to ya about.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, ya remember that yakitori place we went to, yah? Well, as it turns out, there’s a little bookstore café right down the road from it. I was gonna ask if ya wanted to come see it with me.”

Sakusa stared at him for a very long moment. “Are…are you asking me out?”

Atsumu forced himself to maintain eye contact, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” Sakusa said, averting his eyes “Then…yes, I’d like that.”

Atsumu’s heart quickened as he grinned. “Nice. I’ll text ya a time?” Sakusa nodded, cheeks such a lovely shade of red that Atsumu couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to one.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sakusa sighed, drawing another devious grin from Atsumu before a voice caught their attention, Iwaizumi stepping through the throngs of people with a knowing look on his face as he glanced between the two of them.

“A lot of people have been complimenting your duet,” he said, tipping his head to the side curiously, “…and many more are wondering if you’d be up for an encore performance.”

They exchanged a look, before Sakusa shrugged, and Atsumu grinned.

_Time to give the Devil a run for his money_.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/2701Anubis), [Tumblr](https://anubis2701.tumblr.com/), or, if you're a fan of my fics generally (both BNHA and Haikyuu) my [Discord Server!](https://discord.gg/VeAaGy3at9)


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